The Horse and The Eagle
by Unhealthy Obsessions
Summary: Gwyn, the little sister of Guinevere will stop at nothing to find her missing sister, even if that means being in the constant presence of her hated enemy, Arthur. However, more happens on this journey that she bargains for. **Updated**


**Disclaimer:** The only characters I own in this are Gwyn and Talyn.

**Chapter One: A Dream, An Attack, and A Plan**

_So much screaming.. and was that her own voice amidst the terror-stricken sounds? She didn't know, didn't understand. What was happening? Its was hot.. too hot. Something wasn't right. Where were the familiar faces? The hands that held her when she was scared? Why weren't they here? Bright colors danced everywhere.. such a contrast to the black monster that was floating around her. Eyes stung, throat was raw.. she just wanted this to end. Slowly, everything faded from her; the jumping brightness, the suffocating air. She barely felt two thin arms lift her up before everything went black..._

The young Woad woke with a start, gasping in the sweet, clean air. As she sat up, her bright green eyes looked around the familiar place. She exhaled slowly, finally realizing it was all over. _Just a nightmare_ she thought, shaking her head.

But it had felt so real! She rose her callused hand and rubbed her still-aching throat. She had felt everything; the overwhelming heat, the thick smoke. Sighing, she stood up shakily, arms outreached until she was sure she wouldn't fall. This was the sixth time she had woken up like this, and it was taking quite a toll on both her physical and mental state. Rubbing the back of her neck with a wince, she looked around at her sleeping kinsmen until her eyes finally rested on Talyn, who slept near her. A small smile broke through her stressed expression. Her friend had a mischievous grin on his face even when asleep.

The sixteen-year-old girl reached up and grabbed her long, grey cloak that she had draped over the branch above her bed the night before. Picking her way through the slumbering bodies of her family, she walked away from the sleeping place in hope to be able to think this dream through before the day really began. Reaching an empty clearing, she draped the cloak over her, thankful for its warmth against the cold.

The somewhat tall, skinny girl looked up to the sky. Her hair was dark brown, reaching to just brush her shoulders. One stubborn lock fell down to stop at the top of her eyes, hanging in the middle of her forehead; too short to push behind her ear. Dawn was nearing, and by the dark clouds in the west, it would rain tonight. Until the sun crept higher, casting its rays over the tall trees, she stayed, attempting to clear her mind.

She walked back to her people as they began to rise, ready to start another day. If only those images of her dream would leave her head.

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Around mid-afternoon, the girl was in the same clearing, only instead of standing, she was sitting. The cool wind whipped her hair around her face as a sigh made her shoulders rise and drop. She was sitting cross-legged, elbows on her thighs and hands hanging over her calves. Her back was hunched over, as if she was trying to look closer into the woods before her without getting up. She was looking for something, all right. However, it was in vain and she knew it.

Her sister wasn't in this forest, no matter how much she wished she was. She had searched these woods for days. Guinevere was nowhere to be seen. It had been a month now, a month since her older sister had vanished. The Britons were worried. Guinevere was of high stature to them, second to Merlin's Council. They had lost the heir to Merlin's leadership, and no matter how many scouts were sent out, no one found her. The girl shook her head, staring down at the bow and quiver of arrows that lay in front of her. The hunt seemed hopeless. She wrapped her arms around herself tighter, as if her cloak would protect her not only from the cold, but from the sinking feeling that her sister was dead.

On the contrary to what she thought, the young Woad wasn't alone.

Brown eyes watched her from behind as her life-long friend, Talyn, grinned. Oh, this was too perfect. He left his hiding spot behind the curtain of trees and crept towards his quarry.

He was not much older then his friend, around 19 or so. However, he was taller then she, and even his hair was longer. The black mess of strands fell past his shoulders, almost seeming to connect with the swirls of black paint that decorated his chest, back and arms. As he drew near to her, his feet not making a sound, he rose the longsword in his hand and touched the point softly into the back of her neck.

"You shouldn't brood. It takes you off your guard," his cool voice said. Now, he meant no harm of course. They often messed around like this. After all, she had been the one to fasten his pants to a tree root with an arrow while he was asleep.

However, seeing her visibly tense up definitely told him this wasn't the time. He quickly sheathed his weapon.

"Very funny," she said through her teeth without looking at him. Honestly, she wasn't all that angry at him. It was herself she was frustrated with. If she hadn't felt his presence coming, she wouldn't have heard anyone else's footsteps either. She would've been attacked before she even knew anyone was there. Mentally telling herself to focus and stop thinking about Guinevere, she finally stood and turned.

"Did you come here to tell me what to do or mock me?" she asked in a more relaxed tone, her version of an apology.

Talyn was relieved. That could have ended badly.

"Actually, neither for once," he said, his eyes lighting up. "You're gonna love this, Gwyn," he continued, motioning back towards the forest. "A scout's reported that Arthur and his knights are coming through the woods. Merlin's planning an ambush."

_Arthur.._ Gwyn's eyes widened as a dark smile slowly crept across her face. There was no better way to get her sister off the forefront of her mind. She almost thanked the Roman for his good timing.

She took off her cloak, revealing her half-clothed skin to the cold. She didn't feel it, however. Her blood was boiling with anticipation for the battle to come. Maybe this time they'd actually have a victory, unlike when they'd killed the bishop instead of Arthur. She was sick of his presence in her homeland. Besides, it had turned out that the one they killed was a decoy, which was even more of an embarrassment to her people.

She crouched and grabbed her bow and quiver with a blue-painted hand before flashing a grin at her friend.

"For once your presence is welcomed, troublemaker," she joked, wrapping her quiver around her chest and buckling the front. Bow in hand, she pointed towards the woods. "Lead the way."

Talyn started off at a swift run, Gwyn following after.

"Don't worry," he said to her after a few moments. Her response was a confused look and just as she opened her mouth to speak, he continued. "She'll be fine. She always is."

Gwyn didn't have a reply to that. Talyn was never good in the comfort area. At the mention of her sister, all the fears and doubts rose to her mind once more, but she forced them away. Right now they were after Arthur.

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Gwyn sat high up in a tree, back against its rough trunk. Her eyes were on the ground, waiting until they would finally come into view.

She had waited for an opportunity like this most all her life. Arthur and his Sarmatian knights were deep in her people's woods, crossing into the northern territory. Not often did they venture up here, and the Picts were the very reason for this.

In the trees around her sat more of her kin, ready to put Merlin's plan into action. A small group of foot soldiers, Talyn included, were opposite from her position, ready to block off the last escape route after the knights would come face to face with walls of wire and wooden spikes.

"Woads. They're tracking us," a voice came through the mist. Ah, there they were, all seven of them. Arthur rode in front, keeping a tight grip around the reins of his spooked horse.

"Where?" he asked.

There was a small hesitation before the answer, "Everywhere."

The men looked around, urging their mounts on. Gwyn gripped her bow tightly, knocking her arrow and pulling back slowly, arm burning with anticipation. She held, waiting for the first arrow to fly. The men drew closer, and after what seemed like hours, the first strand of wire flew across, the arrow it was tied to embedding into the tree. Barely a split second after, her's and others joined it, creating a wall of spiked metal wire.

Arthur's stallion reared and whinnied in surprised before the Roman gained back control. He quickly turned the horse, leading his knights away from the trap.

Reaching into the quiver on her back, Gwyn pulled out another arrow - normal this time - and knocked her bow. She waited, hands tightening around her weapon, getting ready to draw. The sound of thundering hooves and frantic horses reached her ears, which only served to make her smile grow.

"Get back!" she heard someone yell, then another voice echoing the command.

The noises were soon joined by a war cry of her people as the Picts' foot soldiers ran to meet Arthur at their last hope of escape. Choosing to face wired walls instead of spears, the Sarmatians and their Roman leader turned once more to gallop back to where they started. Gwyn drew back her bow in one quick motion as the Roman commander came back into sight, stopping his horse and drawing Excalibur at the same time. Men emerged from the trees behind the boundary of wire, arrows pulled back like her's. She had her eye on her only target - Arthur. The others didn't matter to her.

Just as she was about to fire, a horn sounded, an almost mournful sound penetrating the mist. The horses couldn't stop moving, nostrils flaring as they looked around widely. The knights looked as spooked as their animals. Arthur stared down the Pict before him while the knights attempted to cover every side.

The sound of the horn made Gwyn's forehead wrinkle in confusion. What was Merlin up to?

"What are you waiting for?" the blond one called out.

_What **are** we waiting for?_ the 16-year old thought frantically. Her arm ached not because of the resistance of the bow, but with the desire to end this now.

But the horn blew again, the signal for retreat. _No!_ Gwyn's head screamed. _Is Merlin crazy? We have Arthur! After all these years, we have him!_

She looked to her captain. He puffed his cheeks in frustration and lowered his bow, walking backwards before disappearing into the fog.

Seeing his signal along with the duel horn blasts, the rest of her people retreated, leaving the last opening for the knights to leave through.

"Inish! Devil ghosts!" the biggest man said.

"Why would they not attack?" asked another.

Arthur's clear green eyes searched the trees, as if he knew they were still being watched.

"Merlin doesn't want us dead," he answered, turning his horse towards their new route.

Gwyn didn't move. She sat there, arrow still drawn, watching the backs of the Sarmatians as they traveled away from her. Their small conversation had barely reached her ears. She was playing back what had happened in her mind, from when their captain told them what to do until the sound of the horn._ Why had they let them go?_

Letting a quiet growl of frustration leave her lips, she drew the arrow back farther and let it fly into the tree across from her. Hooking the bow on her elbow, she let her head drop into her hands. Her right arm shook, tired from holding her position so long, but mostly from the tenseness she had held in it. Anger slowly overtook her disbelief, and finally she looked up once again. Draping her bow over her shoulder now, she climbed down from her perch. Reaching the ground, she took off in a quiet run, determined to find out why they had retreated.

She slowed when she came upon the part of the forest where the elders met. Walking only on her toes, the girl crept closer before ducking behind the underbrush. The soft voices soon came to her ears.

"_We should have killed them, Merlin,_" one said. They were speaking in the Briton's native tongue.

"_There might be a purpose for Artorius and his knights_," their leader, Merlin, replied. Gwyn had to stop herself from verbally voicing her response to such a statement. Biting her lip, she watched the first spit the ground in disgust.

"_No! He is our enemy!_" he answered, voicing Gwyn's thoughts in a more civilized way.

Merlin stabbed a knife between them. It was covered in strange markings, a language not their own, or the Romans'.

"_So is the Saxon_," the shaman said softly.

Gwyn's eyes widened and she quickly left her shelter, backtracking into the empty woods once more.

_The Saxon_... they were widely feared, and while she had never faced a Saxon army, she had heard stories. Ruthless, bloodthirsty people they were. The Roman's called her own race demons, but compared to the Saxons, the Brits were very hospitable. A scout must have found that the Saxon were in Briton. And they were on their way into their land.

Gwyn let out a frustrated noise as she walked back to the clearing in which she had left her cloak. Merlin wanted Arthur's help fighting the Saxons? Arthur was an enemy to them just as much as the Saxon, why enlist his help?

Her steps slowed as she reached the clearing. The past rough nights had begun to catch up to her. She really needed to get some sleep uninterrupted by that cursed dream. Trying to blink away her exhaustion, she stopped and looked down at the ground. Her cloak was gone.

Immediately, she knew where it went. Giving an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms a rare childish action - besides her quick temper and stubbornness, that is.

"Alright, Talyn. I know you've taken my bloody cloak. This isn't the day for your tricks, troublemaker!" her voice was angry and truly frustrated, but she used her nickname for him to show that there were no hard feelings.

She heard him let out an over-dramatic sigh, as if she'd spoiled his whole day. Across the clearing, he dropped from one of the tree branches, her grey garment hanging over his shoulder. He walked over to her, tossing her the cloak.

"Yes, I understand you must be vexed with Merlin for calling the retreat," he said to her, his voice seeming to drip with melodrama. That was Talyn. He never cared whether they won or lost, or who they fought. He just lived for the moment. While in a fight, he put everything he had into it. Yet if they weren't victorious, he just shrugged it off. Gwyn was the opposite, passionate and hot-headed to a fault, and sometimes she wondered how they had managed to become friends.

She watched him sit down, unbuckling her quiver and throwing the cloak over her shoulders. She shook her head, sitting down and placing her weapons between them.

"Don't even mention that. Do you know why we retreated?" she asked, contradicting the fact that she didn't want to talk about it.

Her friend shrugged in reply, knowing it wouldn't be safe to tell her that he didn't care. When Gwyn got into it , he knew better then to voice his own opinion.

"He thinks there's a use for Arthur! A use!" she almost threw up her hands, but stopped the urge to do so. "And by use I mean more then stinking up our lands with his Roman stench," she added under her breath/

"You know, you really shouldn't eavesdrop on their meetings," Talyn pointed out to her. Gwyn answered him with a glare, not hesitating to give him a swift punch in the arm.

"Don't change the subject! You're the one who brought it up in the first place!"

He rubbed his arm, feigning hurt. "I'm sorry I did," he muttered under his breath, but flashed her a smile.

Gwyn ignored his comment. Guinevere had made her way back to be the focus of her thoughts, along with Arthur. Eyes searched the trees as her mind spun.

Arthur and his knights were supposed to be discharged a few days ago. Why were they here, in the north? Were they given another mission? Whatever the reason is, they're headed far away from Hadrian's Wall, far away from safety, and right towards where Guinevere had disappeared.

She had never truly believed for one moment that her sister was dead. The doubts rose in her mind, yes, but the surety wasn't there. She would've known, would've felt it. Gwyn believed someone from farther north had captured her. And now she had heard that the Saxon were here. Could they have done it? Perhaps the knights were sent north because of the invasion. Perhaps Guinevere was there too, the Saxons' first prize in this land. After all, her sister always too long walks away from their immediate territory - against Merlin's will. She claimed she needed the time to be alone. Maybe she had gone too far this time, unsuspectingly into the Saxon's hands. She would be outmatched by an army, no matter how good of a fighter she was.

Gwyn suddenly picked up her bow and quiver, throwing the cloak off her and stumbling to her feet. Hands moved quickly yet with an uncharacteristic tremor to them as she buckled the quiver across her chest.

Talyn frowned, confused as to what had caused such a change in behavior in his friend.

"I'm following them," she said just as he opened his mouth to ask what she was doing.

It took a second for Talyn to realize who 'them' meant. "You're.. you're what?" This was extreme even for Gwyn. Follow Arthur?

She looked up from buckling to give him a frustrated look. "I'm loosing time.. if anyone asks, though I'm sure they won't, you don t know where I'm going." She slung her bow over her shoulder and began to jog away.

Talyn yelled after her, "But where _are _you going exactly?"

She slowed momentarily to glance back at him.

"I'm going to find Guinevere," she answered, so softly that her friend had to almost read her lips to understand what she had said. She turned once more and broke into a quick run.

Talyn frowned. His feet itched to sprint after her and bring her back, but he knew she'd win that battle. She wouldn't rest until she found her older sister, and he understood why. He'd do the same for her. But that didn't mean he wouldn't worry about her. Rubbing the back of his neck, the young man sat once more on the ground. Brown eyes looked towards the woods. It seemed it was his turn to wait for someone lost to return.

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**A/N:** Well, I'm back. I started this fic originally year ago, then was in the process of re-writing it in 2005. Now I'm re-writing it again. It's never been finished, but the plot's stayed pretty fresh in my head. I've grown as a writer, and hopefully you'll find this revision to have more flow and content then my last pieces.  
I'm always looked for constructive criticism, so don't hesitate. I will reply to all reviews, and more then a 'thank you' most of the time.

I hope you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoy writing it. Gwyn's character has grown through the years, and hopefully she fits into the story as well as I plan for her to.

I will update chapters as I finish them. However, I'm in my first year of college now, as well as working at night, so I can't promise consistant updates. So bear with me.

Thanks for reading!

~Merry/Nessa


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